


Skin Tight Jeans

by operationhades



Category: Glee, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, M/M, No Underage Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, from season 2 SPN, minor canonical death, spoilers for Season 2 Glee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:43:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operationhades/pseuds/operationhades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel hates his life. Being one of the older siblings of a long line of Novak's going to Darlton Academy for Boys is boring, back home it's hell, and the only good thing in his life is being friends with the troubled, possibly tone-deaf, Dean Winchester of McKinley High.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I like crossovers okay? One story; three parts. Beta'd by the ever helpful [ego-centrisme](http://ego-centrisme.livejournal.com/). Enjoy!

Gabriel hated school. Granted, he hated his whole damn life actually, but school was such a particular hate he had to separate it from everything else. Darlton Academy was everything Gabriel wasn't. Posh, high class, orderly, strict and absolutely no fun. Who the hell made kids in this day and age wear uniforms anyway? But no~oo, Darlton was prestigious. Darlton had a high fee which just _meant_ spoilt kids and 'quality'. More importantly, Darlton was the 'whatever the hell the Latin phrase was' for the Novak family.

"The Alma Matar." Balzathar drawled, rolling his eyes at Gabriel's rant.

Whatever. He still hated this place.

The lessons were all stuffy and boring. Everybody was expected to get full marks as if they were all mini geniuses or whatever. The teachers had _no_ creativity whatsoever and the students even less. When Gabriel first joined - already dreading the next three years because, what the fuck was up with this uniform? - he'd been told the only thing 'fun' here was the Warblers.

The Warblers.

Somebody just kill him.

But even he had to admit they were pretty damn good, and pretty cool too. And heck yeah, if they let Gabriel sing his rock songs and Katy Pery's California Girls with obnoxious pouting of his lips and little hip sways, then he was all happy. He hated the damn bird though - roll your eyes again Balzathar and you'll be blind by tomorrow - almost got it killed while being forced to take care of it. So he hated the school, and he hated his life, and he most definitely hated the damn bird. But what could he do? He was stuck here until he could graduate and run off to college under the pretence of studying abroad. Yeah, definitely. He'd go somewhere awesome and cool like... Norway. Or some similar countries. He totally had a thing for the Scandinavians.

"You guys can go home by yourselves?" He asked, resting his head on his folded arms.

Balzathar scoffed at him, all dainty and charming, and absolutely thriving at Dalton's, and wrapped an arm around the intense silence of Castiel, who nodded once. Gabriel granted them a quick grin, his two younger siblings one of the only things he liked about his life. Balzathar, while at ease and happy with their life, had a subtle mischievous side and a snarky attitude that made him Gabriel's self proclaimed prodigy. Castiel though... Castiel was just... Castiel.

Gabriel still needed to work on him a bit.

"Going to go run off to your buddy buddy, Gabe?"

Gabriel frowned, sticking his tongue out much to Balzathar's irritation. "His lil' brother's started high school this year and I wanna see how it's been." At Castiel's cocked eyebrow, Gabriel blew out an exasperated breath. "Fine, yeah, whatever.I _also_ want to spy on their Glee Club. So what? They have fun in there. No uniforms."

Waving a hand in the air, Balzathar rolled his eyes. "Whatever, big brother. Just make sure to be home by 8. Michael and Lucifer are coming to visit." At that, both Balzathar and Gabriel scowled heavily while Castiel watched on with only the smallest amount of amusement curling his lips.

As Gabriel stood up and hitched his school bag further up on his uniformed shoulder, Castiel dug through his own bag to take a magazine out and pushed it across the lunch table where they sat. Gabriel picked it up and looked at the cover, seeing cars splashed all over it with a grin.

"I informed Dean I would seek his approval for the car I wish to purchase once I have acquired my license." Castiel explained seriously. "On page 6 is my first choice. Tell him I'm open for discussion."

Saluting with the magazine in hand, Gabriel then stuffed it inside his own bag and bowed theatrically to his freshman siblings. The Novak family was a giant clan of adopted and orphaned children – some were lucky enough to come with siblings while others came alone. Gabriel was one of the first four actual children of their guardians, with twin brothers, Michael and Lucian (nicknamed Lucifer because he was a little bitch like that) being the oldest of their 'distinguished' family. Then there was Raphael, who'd graduated last year and gone off to who knew where, Gabriel - currently senior at Dalton Academy- and finally, Balzathar and Castiel as Juniors. Plus a whole bunch of ragtag adopted children Gabriel didn't know half of. Like that red head chick who hung around Castiel sometimes and who was really, _really_ , pale.

Gabriel would have killed himself if he shared a class with Raphael or, you know, Uriel. Who thankfully had gone off with Michael somewhere to New York or whatever. Shit, it meant he'd be coming back too. Goddamn it, he hated that little stuck up brat even thought Castiel liked him for unfathomable reasons.

Bringing himself back to the present, Gabriel saluted his siblings one more time "Kay, guys. I'm outta here. See ya.", before leaving the school.

Outside, the weather was getting colder, autumn moved on to give way to winter, more clouds in the sky and less sunshine. McKinley High wasn't too far off, especially if he grabbed the bus, and by the time he arrived the bell was ringing just in time to signify the end of the school day.

Taking off his blazer and stuffing it into his bag, Gabriel drifted inside the school and weaved through the numerous corridors, grinning brightly and exuding confidence. Nobody spared him a second glance - why would they? He was just a kid wearing black pants and a white dress shirt. He walked past the football team's lockers room, whistling a tune until he passed in front of a room and immediately stopped when he heard an authoritative voice speak over the babble of teenagers.

"-so we need to start to seriously practise, guys." A man's voice was saying. Gabriel grinned harder, recognising the voice of McKinley High's Glee Club's supervisor - a Mr William Schuester. "And now that we have enough members thanks to Sam," a round of applause. "We can go to the Regionals!"

Sneaking up the door, Gabriel almost squealed in delight when he saw it was wide open. The auditorium was brightly lit, Mr. Schuester's back as usual faced Gabriel, while the cast of New Directions dotted about on the big stage. Creeping into the place with a very strong urge to hum the Mission Impossible tune, Gabriel hid underneath a couple of seats and peaked out, watching the crew of teenagers and their newest blushing member.

Sam Winchester was a gangly looking teen.

Gabriel had been one of the first few to welcome Kurt Hummel to Dalton Academy even if it hadn't been as enthusiastic as Blaine's welcome had been. Those two gay peas in a pod were so adorable together plus the new boy could actually sing, so all was good in Gabriel's world. But Sam Winchester taking on his spot?

Hilarious! Could the kid even sing?

Grinning widely, Gabriel made himself comfortable in his seat, making sure to keep his head ducked, peaking through the gaps of the row in front of him. He took note of the teenagers on the stage, all of them panting and smiling widely and patting the awkward looking Sam on the back. Pouting at the fact it looked like the so called rehearsal was over, he pulled himself across the seats and crawled his way out by using the same route he'd entered in, giving in to his urge and humming the tune to himself while that Rachel Berry ranted on about how talented she was.

By the time he got out, the kids were only just starting to filter towards the exit of the auditorium, heading on home or whatever kids on the lowest rung of the high school ladder did here. Gabriel steered himself out of the room and towards the school's football field, curving round the pitch and into the bleachers.

There, sitting behind the rafters lounging like a lazy lion cat, was Dean.

"Can Sam even sing?" He greeted the older Winchester, his cheeks hurting from the force restraining the grin that wanted to break free.

"Can you?" Dean shot back without missing a beat, scowling off in the direction of jocks entering the field, loud and boisterous. "I'm trying to ignore that Sammy ever did such a stupid thing. Don't remind me."

Plopping down next to him, Gabriel snatched one of Dean's sandwiches and bit into it. "I'm actually impressed." He garbled out, resisting the temptation to moan his pleasure at the tuna salad sandwich he was eating. Sam must have made lunch today - Dean didn't even like tuna. "Never knew he could sing, though."

"I don't think he can!" Dean replied, throwing his hands in the air. An odd noise came from his stomach, causing the green eyed teenager to blush, scowl and stare at his remaining sandwiches in depression. "Dude. Now the whole school'll hate him."

Gabriel perked up, remembering with a startling clarity how McKinley Highs Glee Club were considered losers at their school - way different then how the Warbler's were seen at Dalton. "Ouch. I heard from the new kid over in our group how badly they're treated here. Kid flinches every time he sees a slushie. Especially red ones."

Dean snorted before curling in on himself in desperation. "Dad's going to kill me if Sam gets slushied." He moaned desperately. "Or shoved into lockers. Or verbally abused by Coach Sylvester."

Feeling sorry for the guy, Gabriel dug into his bag and threw the car magazine at Dean, along with two, delicious, turkey sandwiches he bought from the baker round their house. Dean all but pounced on the food first, no qualms about groaning and moaning his pleasure out much to Gabriel's embarrassment before noticing the magazine. "Page 6." Gabriel told him after clearing his throat awkwardly, using the tuna sandwich to point in the magazine's direction. "Cas' choice. Told me to pass it on to you." As Dean flipped through to the designated page, Gabriel peered out at the growing group of footballers, whistling to himself when he saw a kid in a wheelchair getting pushed right into the middle of them. Wheelchair Kid was even wearing the uniform. "What's up with the wheelchair kid?"

"Hell if I know." Dean shrugged without looking up, coming to a stop at page 6 and whistling in awe. "Damn. Cas wants this? Just- _damn._ " He finally glanced up at the football field, watching as the group of teenagers went through training exercises. "Maybe I can get Sam to join the football team too. Balance the uncoolness with the cool. He could totally make quarterback in like, a week."

Raising a single eyebrow in doubt, Gabriel shrugged and turned his attention back to the jocks, watching as Finn Hudson – the current quarterback, he was sure – wheeled around the wheelchair kid with that mohawk guy running alongside them. "So what you gonna do about the Regionals?"

Dean paused, hand stopping halfway in it's journey to put the sandwich in his mouth, and stared at Gabriel uncomprehendingly.

Rolling his eyes at the unflattering look, Gabriel shoved Dean's hand until the food smushed it's way around Dean's mouth, 50/50 on whether it ended up inside or not. "The Regionals, dumbass. Where we all get on a bus and drive somewhere and sing our lungs out in front of an audience and one group wins. What're you gonna do about the driving and going somewhere part? I know your Dad hates anything about Sam being on his own."

"Shit," Dean breathed, licking at a bit of tuna stuck on his upper lip. Gabriel did _not_ eye the wet appendage at all, he didn't watch it leave a glistening trail of saliva over the lip or disappear back into the moist cavity behind sinfully plush lips. He didn't notice any of it, even if he had long ago admitted to himself he liked pretty things. And Dean Winchester was _mighty_ pretty. "Shit! You're right! What the hell do I do? If Dad finds out about this – and he will – he'll force Sam to quit, and then they'll argue and I just can't handle that, Gabe."

Gabriel also understood that if any of the stories Dean had told him about were true, John Winchester would end up putting the blame on Dean for _letting_ his little brother join. Not that Dean could see anything wrong with that; he probably was the only person Gabriel knew who still looked up to their father with something close to hero worship. Gabriel knew criticising the intimidating John Winchester would get you nowhere except in Dean's bad books, so he bit his tongue and kept his opinion of John's reaction to Sam joining a _club,_ to himself.

"Maybe you should just tell Sam now, before it happens." Gabriel suggested, knowing it would get shot down immediately.

As expected, Dean immediately shook his head. "No, no, that's not fair. Sam deserves to do what he wants to, and if singing and getting bullied because of it is what he wants, then he should sing like a canary or whatever. Or you." He scratched at his chin, eyebrows screwing up in thought. "When are these Regionals stuff taking place, you say? Tuesday, right? You kept yapping on about it last time we saw each other."

"Yup." Gabriel answered, pinching his fingers to stop the rush of blood going to his face. He knew he blabbed a lot, took over whole conversations if given the chance, or even if he was just nervous. He always forgot that Dean, unlike others, actually listened to half the stuff he said. Even if he outright zoned out in other places like when Gabriel started making lewd suggestions of Dean and Castiel being together (What? The two were too adorable to be left alone!). That's when he noticed the strange expression on Dean's face. It was the same strange expression Gabriel had seen the day before Dean had rigged his walkman into an EMF meter and dragged Cas off to a 'ghost hunt'. And on the day when Dean was so pissed at a teacher's comment about his family, he stole important parts out of her car so it wouldn't work. Nobody could put the blame on him since Dean hadn't made it well known he was good with cars, or anything to do with his hands for that matter: his freaking Shop grades were barely passable. This look, this was the look that came right before Dean did something completely reckless but that would impress anyone deemed lucky enough to know anyway.

"Gabe." Dean spoke up, voice ominously serious. "I'm going to join Glee Club."

Or maybe it was just due to constipation and Dean was really as stupid as he made people think he was. " _What?_ "

Dean nodded wildly, his eyes gleaming as whatever he was thinking off further cemented into his brain. "Yeah! Then Dad won't be able to complain because _I'll_ be with him. We'll say some crap about the principal forcing me to join for my grades and Sam just joining to keep me company and make sure I actually _go_. It'll totally work."

Yeah, it might, but, "What about your grades? Won't he get pissed at you for that?"

Dean scoffed. "Seriously? Dad doesn't give a damn as long as I'm not bringing teacher's down on our head. The only reason why he won't let me drop out is because Mom would have wanted me to graduate or something."

Gabriel hummed to himself, thinking about his friend's plan of action, then grinned wickedly. "Oh and you'll _sing_? You sure they'll even let you in?"

"They accept anyone who wants to join." Dean grinned back. "Even if they suck. Sam told me. Kept going on about how that was awesome and wouldn't hurt anybody's little icky feelings."

"So are _you_ going to sing?" Gabriel countered. "Because I doubt you can join a Glee Club, go to the Regionals and not even sing. Or dance."

"Oh please," Dean waved a hand dismissively. "I'll be a stage hand or something. They always need those. Or a sounding board, tell them when they suck or rock. Everybody could benefit from _my_ awesome musical tastes. You just don't want me to go to the Regionals and whoop your ass."

Shaking his head in amusement, Gabriel licked the remaining sandwich off his fingers before giving Dean a thumbs up. "Challenge accepted. On one condition, though."

"What?"

"I get to watch you apply."

* * *

 

"Oh, um, hello Dean."

"Hey, Mr. Schuester." Dean Winchester greeted him with a nod, breezing into New Direction's headquarters. He stopped once he was inside, looking around the place with a critical eye, and seemed like he'd expected more. Behind him, a kid Will wasn't familiar with stood with a huge grin, swaying on the balls of his feet. "I want to join Glee Club."

Will blinked, blinked again, put the Spanish papers he'd been grading down before giving Dean his full attention. "You want to join Glee Club." He repeated, the words not entering his brain.

"Yeah," Dean answered him back easily. "Why? You guys are not taking any more people?"

"No! No! We're taking! I'm just... Surprised." He had to be careful about this, about how he worded his bewilderment so as to not offend the Junior. "Sam joined recently and we're glad to have him. I just didn't know you were interested too."

The kid behind Dean gave a "Can he even _sing_?", but Will was too busy staring as Dean gifted him with a wide, bright grin that was so unlike what Will had seen of him in the two years Dean had been his student. "Exactly." Dean answered, stuffing his hands in his pants. "Sam joined and he keeps babbling about how awesome this place was so I thought I'd give it a chance too. Can't exactly hurt can it?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course." The Spanish teacher answered, clasping his hands together. "We usually get everyone to audition though – nothing big, just you singing any song you want to – and that way we're all on the same page. The guys should be here soon, so why don't you and your friend take a seat?"

"Ohoho!" The kid behind Dean crowed, looking victorious as he skipped across the floor with too much energy, past Dean, and seated himself to a chair. "I _told_ you! I have _got_ to see this!"

Dean's face went pale, and the seventeen year old swallowed thickly before getting a hold on himself and plastering a cocky smirk on his face as he swaggered toward a chair, just like Puckerman. Will mentally groaned as he realised he was going to have two 'badasses' in his club. Those two who would probably be the death of him with all their alpha strutting to one another. He didn't know much about Dean, even with two years of having him in his Spanish class. The teen tended to keep his head down and pass his work, nothing more nothing less. It was hard to be a teacher and not hear some of the stories that passed through the student's grapevine. While three quarters sounded absolutely outlandish (like that story of how Dean was the reason Wilma's car wasn't working), a few were bound to have some matter of truth.

How were the others going to react to this? A few of the girls might be pleased as punch, Will could see Santana particularly enjoying this new development but Rachel was bound to be strongly against it. Maybe Dean being Sam's brother would ease her off a bit and the others who would be opposed to this, considering how everyone had grown incredibly fond of Sam. Will couldn't see any particular conflict happening between the boys, none except from Puck maybe, and then maybe Finn too by extension, but it really all depended on how the first meeting went.

As if feeling and responding to his dread, Rachel's voice boomed from the outside, coming closer and going at frightening speeds. He could also hear the chatter of the other kids around her, meaning most of them, if not all, were here.

They entered in a mess of teenage limbs, each mouth going a mile a minute with some form of greeting to him tossed in. Will watched with curiosity as they all stopped when they spotted Dean sitting on a chair. The only one that didn't freeze was Sam, who recovered almost instantly. He pushed through the crowd and walked toward his brother, only sparing a glance to the other teenager Will still couldn't put a name too. "Dean? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

Wondering why Sam's reaction had first been that something wrong had happened, Will watched as Dean shook his head, lips pulling into his trademark smirk-grin Will had seen more times than he could count. It was usually directed at a girl in his class who would blush fire engine red. "Nope. You kept yammering on about how great this place was so I wanted to join and maybe see for myself."

Sam's eyebrows burrowed together but Will couldn't tell whether it was from worry or something else. Rachel burst out into a surprising joy and launched into a tirade about how great it was, about how it would benefit New Directions greatly and so on and so forth, while she shared meaningful looks with the others, all following her lead with some form of hesitation.

That's when Will realized why Rachel Berry, one who was all for talent and nothing but the best, wouldn't even demand hearing Dean sing before voicing her opinion. Dean Winchester was famous and Dean Winchester was one of the higher ups on the high school totem pole of popularity. Also, Dean Winchester being in New Directions might help the Glee kids gain some popularity of their own.

He didn't approve of the way the kids, one by one, realized this. Mercedes and Kurt picking up on Rachel's thoughts immediately and cluing the rest in. The reason they should want people to like them – ignoring the fact nobody should care about _what_ other people thought – should be because they were talented, good at what they did, and be appreciated for it. He sighed softly, wondering if he was going to have a word with them when Dean wasn't around but, at the very least, some of their previous acceptance toward the older Winchester might be justified once Dean sang.

It was something he never thought of before: Dean Winchester singing. He didn't usually judge people by their looks, and he wasn't doing that with Dean, really, he wasn't, but everything he knew about Dean spoke of a teenager who was just doing the minimal amount of work in school until he would be done with it all. It meant not joining any projects, not showing any effort in class or homework unless forced too, and it _definitely_ included not joining extracurricular activities. Maybe Sam talking about the Glee Club really piqued Dean's interest. It was a possibility, one Will was definitely willing to accept. He couldn't see any other reason why Dean would join, or anything sinister in the intent. What could he do anyway? See what their set list was and leak it to Sue?

Shit. Sue.

If anyone could find a way to get Dean to work for them, it would be Sue Sylvester. But why would Dean work against the club his little brother was in? And what could she be offering him? Or even blackmailing?

Will didn't know but he'd have to watch Dean carefully from now on.

Speaking of which, Dean was looking a bit overcome with the reception he was receiving, his chair scraping backwards inch by inch as Rachel continued bombarding him for his thoughts on Broadway shows. Will also noticed Sam talking to the kid he _still_ couldn't place. A new kid maybe? Transferred over from another school and not in his Spanish class? That would explain it. He got the strange impression Sam was _grilling_ the teenager about something. The two of them looked at ease with each other, the stranger going so far as to say something that had Sam spluttering and blushing fiercely in embarrassment but Will had a job to do here, and it didn't include eavesdropping on what appeared to be a really interesting conversation.

"So! Everyone!" He shouted above the dim of chatter, clapping his hands loudly to gain everyone's attention. "As you've all found out, Dean is here to join us. You all know the drill by now; you want to join, you audition. So why doesn't everybody sit down so Dean can come up here?"

As soon as he'd finished, Puck sauntered into the room, wheeling Artie in. The two made themselves comfortable in their places with a curious glance at Dean. Puck's eyebrows went up while Artie immediately leaned in to Mike and the two broke down into hushed whispering.

"Come on up, Dean." Will continued on anyway, waving his hand from his place at the piano, encouraging Dean to come up. "Don't worry, you don't have to feel nervous or anything. Just choose your favourite song, or one you like to sing a lot, and just give it a try. Me and the guys with the instruments here will back you back."

A snicker broke out, coming from the corner where the unnamed teenager sat on the edge of his seat, looking eager. Will was surprised to see it did not come from the teenager but from Sam who was desperately trying to smother it into a fist. The unnamed teenager, a lighter shade than Sam's but styled the same, simply smiled wickedly. The two of them starred as Dean, glaring back and fussing with a loose thread on his jeans, stood up and walked toward the centre of the room. Once there, he just stood awkwardly and faced the watching crowd, hands beating out a nervous rhythm against his thighs as he bit into his lip.

A minute or so passed in a similar vein, Dean trying to stall for as long as he could while Will mentally argued the pro's and con's of helping the poor kid out, when they were interrupted by Sam _"psst"-_ ingfrom his corner. As Dean turned to look at him, Sam rolled his eyes and huffed, "Sing _Use Somebody_ like you did yesterday in the shower. You sounded good."

Dean flushed but his eyes narrowed suspiciously at his brother. "Why were you listening to me in the shower for anyway, bitch?"

As Will's finger twitched at the language – the theory about Sue Sylvester looking actually plausible; obviously no love was lost between the brothers – Sam rolled his eyes again while the unnamed teenager turned to Sam with a scandalised look. "He sings in the shower and you never told me? Better yet, _recorded it_ and sent it to me?"

"Just sing it, jerk." Sam replied, completely ignoring the kid next to him. "And stop standing there like a freak."

Dean gritted his teeth together, jaw locked in irritation, but didn't reply, instead turning to face the group again with a determined expression. "Okay so, Kings of Leon, _Use Somebody,_ it is. Uh, is that okay?" He directed the last question at Will and the band, waiting for their nod before nodding decisively to himself. "Okay, um, here goes."

And Dean sang.

  
_"I've been roaming around, looking always down, and all I see;_   
_Painted faces, making places, I can't reach._   
_You know that I could use somebody._   
_You know that I could use somebody."_   



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here. Have some more. (As of posting this, it has officially been Friday for two minutes.)

"I just wanted to be a _stage hand_ _._ " Dean hissed quietly, glaring at Sam angrily. "Not an actual _singer_ or dancer or whatever."

Sitting in a chair besides him, Sam rolled his eyes with passion as Mike and Tina sang something together. "Just so you could come to Regionals with me, yeah, I know. Gabriel told me."

Screw Gabriel! The little bitch had run off cackling after Dean had finished, tears streaming from his eyes in glee and gasping out a poor excuse nobody could make sense off. Sometimes, Dean wondered why he was friends with the asshole, especially considering he started off hating Gabriel and everything about him. He only learned Gabriel was Castiel's brother after he'd already made friends with Cas (who was freaking awesome, by the way), so he had learned to put up with him. Somehow, that barely-tolerating had turned to mutual-benefits (where Gabe could use Dean as an excuse for hanging out and Dean could actually make a joke someone would get), and _that_ had turned to something closely resembling a friendship.

"Then you know I don't wanna sing." Dean bulldozed on anyway, using the fact Sam was completely in the know to his advantage. "You'll have to help me avoid all singing until we finish with the goddamn Regionals."

Sam snorted at him, an insulting noise that offended Dean greatly. "You reap what you sow." The little bitch singsonged, suspiciously sounding like he was paraphrasing an Adele's lyric.

Crept out by his little brother shooting Adele at him (no Winchester should _ever_ sing Adele, or Gaga Lady (or whatever her name was!), or any of the numerous hip hop and rap artists out there), Dean scooped his chair a few inches away from Sam, scooting further when his brother shot him the Bitchface No. 26: _'Oh My God Dean, Seriously? You're Getting Freaked Out By This?'_ Sam might not have principles, or lines on what not to cross, but Dean sure as hell did, and it included _singing_ anything that wasn't at _least_ ten years old and with badass lyrics. Preferably while he was driving (too bad his dad rarely let him even touch Baby), or showering (which was his _personal time_ dammit! How dare Sam break the sanctity of shower time?) or running away from whatever place dad had made him break into (because sometimes, while the security guards yelled and screamed at you to stop, you just needed to do a little Freddie Mercury, you know?). Not only had Dean already crossed one serious line (singing in front of crowds without even the prospect of getting laid – or well, maybe he could get laid, the cheerleaders in this club were _definitely_ interested, _fuck yeah_ ), but now, in his birth given duty to protect his little brother, Dean had to be... a part of _Glee Club._

Thankfully though, he hadn't turned out to be the laughing stock of the club (a spot apparently reserved for Mike Chang's singing skills – aka non-existent). In fact, everybody, including the Spanish teacher, had seemed surprised or whatever. Dean hadn't understood anything of what Berry said afterwards, something about raw potential and being untrained and "with _my_ training, you'll be in top condition in _no time_ ," but as long as Dean _never had to do it again_ , he'd write it off as a 'casualty of war'.

And by all that is holy (rock salt, iron and holy water), Sam was going to help him. Or else.

"Okay, everyone!" Mr. Schuester clapped to get their attention. Apparently, the two Koreans had finally finished singing. Dean hadn't even known there were Koreans in McKinley before today. "Regionals are in two days! So let's all go to the auditorium and practice. Dean, we'll bring you up to speed so you and Sam can make sure you get it right by the time we head off, okay?" Dean waved a hand dismissively, planning on mouthing the words or something, but besides him, Sam nodded in answer, satisfying Mr. Schuester. "Great. Come on, guys. Two days! Let's do this!"

* * *

On the next day, Dean decided to tell John Winchester.

Dean wasn't a newcomer in trying to get his dad to let them do things, be it to go to the nearby park or to the football game between the school and their rival, and he had learned from experience that there was a certain method to go in order to gain the best results. Sometimes, usually when it was just one of them that wanted to go somewhere, John just refused, and nothing could change his mind – Dean knew when to bow out and accept defeat – but othertimes, it was the _wording_ that could nab them the victory. Not just the _wording_ but the _timing_ too.

With toast on their plates and orange juices in their glasses (coffee for John, Dean would sneak a gulp or two when his dad left the kitchen, much to Sam's ire), Dean decided breakfast was the best time of attack.

"The school is taking us out for a field trip tomorrow, Dad." Dean casually shot out, smearing a bit more butter on his toast. "Some extracurricular thing for all grades. Apparently, I don't have as many credits as I thought I had, so I have to go. Sam wants to come with."

Not essentially a lie – Glee Club _was_ extracurricular and for all grades. And Dean really _didn't_ have as many credits as he probably should. Sam didn't react in anyway next to Dean, only perking up and looking interested, as if he really did want to just come with and keep Dean's bored ass company. Dean wasn't fooled though – the slight tic in his brother's left eyebrow was an annoyed one, one that spoke of Dean getting lectured afterwards for delicately _lying_ to their father – something Dean outright denied because come on, this was so not lying.

In response, John grunted, swallowing down his own toast – with jam and cheese – with a gulp of coffee. "Will it take long?"

"Nah," came the smooth answer. Dean already knew they had won just from John's non-interested reply. "Worst case scenario, we'll be back in the evening, but at the latest – because of traffic – we'd still be home before ten."

"'Kay." Their dad answered. "Make sure to charge your phones and take the chargers with you. Take care of your brother too Dean, and be vigilant." Dean gave the required "yessir", but John had already turned his attention to Sam. "And you keep an eye on your brother and make sure he does the damn work, okay Sammy?"

Sam grinned, dimples flashing in both cheeks, and gave a similar "yessir" as Dean squawked incredulously. For once, Sam didn't call John out on the 'Sammy'.

Hence, it was a good morning.

* * *

A sniff then a deep inhalation of the air as Gabriel entered the auditorium rented out for the Regionals. Dean was besides him, wearing a smart black dress shirt pressed down over black slacks, the shirt's sleeves folded up to the elbows to reveal his forearms. Gabriel himself wore the usual Dalton uniform, nothing fancy there, unfortunately.

"Smell that, Dean-o?" Gabriel asked, placing his hands on his hip as he stood on the stage. Nobody had arrived yet, the seats were devoid of life and both boys' respective teams were in the locker rooms touching up on their makeup – or, well, the girls in Dean's group were touching up on their makeup, and maybe the queers in Gabriel's group, who knew? "This, my mere mortal source of entertainment, is the smell of showbiz. Of Broadway. Of _music_!"

Dean groaned next to him, slapping at Gabriel's shoulder. "You sound like Berry." He moaned but dutifully sniffed at the air. "Besides, I'm pretty sure this place just smells of that citrus-y freshness you get on the window cleaners or something."

True. But nobody needed to mention that.

"Whatever. What're you guys singing anyway? And I cannot _wait_ to hear you sing, Dean-o! They even already got you in a costume!"

Dean snorted besides him, scowling down at his clothes as he self consciously straightened out non-existent kinks. "Can't tell you." He said. "Sam made me promise I wouldn't tell the enemy of our battle plans. He went on this whole rant about how we were on different sides of a war and I needed to solidify my loyalties or whatever. Kid's freaking mental, I swear."

Huffing, Gabriel spun on his heels to face Dean, craning his neck upwards in irritation at the sudden reminder that Dean was _taller_ than him. Why would a Junior be taller than a Senior, Gabriel would never know – just another injustice of the world, along with Dalton, annoying big brothers and _everything_. "Peacock's probably trading fashion tips with Rachel anyway," he pointed out, and at Dean's blank look, Gabriel gave an explosive sigh and clarified. "Kurt Hummel, gay kid who ran away from your school to ours to embrace his homosexual tendencies with Blaine Anderson?" Dean had looked blank at the mention of the ex-McKinley High student but at the words 'gay kid who ran away', he snapped his fingers in recognition before returning to blank look.

"And... Who's Rachel?"

"Oh my _god_ ," Gabriel exclaimed. "Rachel Berry! _Berry!_ Psychopathic female with a set of pipes and frightening dreams of Broadway. Bastard child of the ex-manager of Vocal Adrenaline, the lady with the awesome jaw, and the girl with the two gay dads!"

"Oh," Dean muttered. Then, _"Oh!_ " as he finally realized who Gabriel was getting at. He shrugged unapologetically, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "I'm not here to make friends, Gabe. Already got my hands full with you alone. I think the whole 'friends' slot is completely full anyway if you add Cas, Sammy and freaking Balzathar – who sucks but is the best wing man I have _ever_ seen, I get laid more then once whenever he's even around, Jesus."

Rolling his eyes – only reason why that happened was because Balzathar had absolutely no morals – Gabriel caught sight of some black blazers with red lining coming up to the stage, and quickly grabbed Dean and pulled, alternating it with a push once Dean was in the opposite direction of the oncoming Warblers. "Dammit," he cursed. "Hurry up, you gotta leave, it's show time."

Dean craned his neck backwards and, catching sight of the boys, grinned at Gabriel, puckering his lips together suggestively into a ridiculous kiss. "Awww, don't want them to know you have a boyfriend? You know, we could give Peacock and his boy toy a run for their money just by standing together."

Flushing as he stared at the sinfully plush lips directed at him – he wasn't _noticing it_ dammit – Gabriel tried kicking Dean, grumbling to himself as Dean dodged with a laugh and finally got off the stage, ducking behind the partitioner as the Warblers got on stage. By the time his fellow classmates reached him, he was able to fully stamp down on his blushing, getting it under some semblance of control. Still, he kept having flashes of what he'd like to do about Dean's suggestions and _hell yes,_ they'd give the two lovebirds a run for their money.

Bouncing next to him, Blaine comfortably shouldered Gabriel lightly, grinning at him. "You ready to blow their minds and win, Novak?"

He hated being called by his family name, something everybody at school did, but Gabriel just plastered a grin on his face and replied with the expected answer. "You know it, Anderson."

As one, they left the stage, getting into position as the doors opened up and people started streaming into the auditorium and seating themselves. The Warblers wouldn't be going first – no, that spot was left for some other group Gabriel couldn't give a damn about – but they were second, meaning he'd get to settle down into his seat and watch Dean (and OK, fine, sasquatch Sammy too) rock it out on the stage. The thought brought a real grin to his face, one more genuine than the one he'd just granted Blaine next to him but he stamped it down as someone picked up the mic and started welcoming everyone to the Regionals.

Time to rock and roll.

* * *

"...and in second place... Dalton Academy's _Warblers!_ "

* * *

As they all stood on the stage, all three Glee Club's of different schools, Gabriel's eyes met Dean's and the two shared a grin. Dean had an arm slung over Sam's shoulder – luckily still able to do it since Sam still was an inch or so shorter than Dean, but for how long that would still be the truth was anybody's guess – and the whole cast of New Direction were breathing heavily, still coming down from the high of performing just moments before.

Gabriel didn't even care if he suspected Dean had been mouthing all the words (though he was _pretty damn sure_ Dean had actually gotten carried away toward the end and actually sang, if the way Sam's head had suddenly whipped toward his brother in pleased shock, had been an indication), because it had _definitely_ been worth it to see Dean _dance_. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was something Gabriel was going to treasure until his death bed. To treasure, and to use as blackmail material. _Oh_ , the _blackmail_.

The announcer had already gotten rid of the group in third place, neither the Warblers or New Directions. They were the only ones left, huddled together with only a small space in between. The amount of familiarity between the groups was something ironic to contemplate; Kurt Hummel, former New Directions member, and Gabriel being long-standing friends with Dean and Sam Winchester (the latter was a love-hate relationship, Gabriel had no disillusions about _that_ ). Second place was about to be announced, the speaker dragging it out for suspense, and when finally, the group was named, New Directions burst into ecstatic glee and immediately fell into each other in a huge group hug. They broke apart almost immediately, the girls jumping on Kurt Hummel and even Blaine – familiar with the two – and Gabriel found himself getting a surprise hug attack from a gangly Sam babbling at five miles per second and-

"Whoa, whoa, easy there tiger."

-Oh thank god, now he could _breathe_.

Dean patted him on the back sympathetically as Sam blushed in embarrassment, shrugging almost a minute later (enemies again) and disappearing to continue celebrating with his friends. Gabriel was alone with Dean, who had a wickedly smug grin on his face, acting cool as a cucumber.

"Oh, laugh it up, big boy." Gabriel wheezed, hacking to clear his throat from Sammy's attack before speaking again. "It's obvious people just voted on looks factor. No way could we win with you in their sleeves."

A startled laugh came from Dean, pleasing Gabriel greatly. "Should I be blushing, Gabe? That sounded like you believe I'm the hottest person around."

Scoffing (of course Dean was the hottest around, Gabriel had _eyes,_ and damn good eyes at that), Gabriel waved Dean off, deciding not to actually answer for both their safety. "Yeah well, guess you won. I'd say your dad would be proud but I think it's even better if I say _I'm_ proud. Or Cassy would be proud. Yeah, Cassy would _definitely_ be proud. He'd be quietly glowing or something – hey, maybe he's in the crowds?"

Dean didn't reply though, instead dropping his hands onto Gabriel's shoulder, holding him in place. Gabriel arched an eyebrow at the Junior, trying to figure out the strange expression on Dean's face. "You alright, Dean? Lookin' bit strange there, fellah."

Dean took a deep breath, through his nose, as is fortifying himself against something. "Just... Punch me, or something, if you don't want to, okay?"

"If I don't want to wha-"

He couldn't answer, something was blocking his mouth, something was on Gabriel's lips. Something soft and plush and _warm_. And Dean's face was really, _really_ , close. For a moment, everything just went silent – the celebrating happening right next to them, Sam's voice rising as someone gave him a hug, the cheers of the crowd right besides them – and all Gabriel could see was Dean's face, Dean's closed eyes, the furrow in between his eyebrows that spoke of apprehension, as if Dean was afraid of how Gabriel would react. All he could see was the freckles scattered across the bridge of Dean's nose and upper cheeks and the ridiculously long eyelashes. That's when he realised _why_ his lips were suddenly paralysed, unable to move of his own violation, kidnapped from his control.

It was because Dean was kissing him.

 _Dean_ was _kissing_ him.

Holy _shit_.

* * *

After that, somehow, the two groups ended up going their own ways back to school, and everything just blurred until Gabriel found himself swamped with exams. This year was particularly important for him, with him being a senior and all. He had already send applications to practically every university he could find across the pond, as well as a few in America just to appease the dictators of his household, working his butt off to make damn sure his reports, and everything else, were up to par to some of the school's he'd sent applications too.

The Warblers had taken their defeat at the Regionals better than expected. It was hard not too when the New Directions had belted out original songs nobody had ever heard before, Rachel Berry showing once more she had the talent – but not quite the personality. From what Gabriel knew of the school, it'd been obvious to see where _Loser Like Me_ came from, though he'd found it more entertaining to think of how the Winchester brothers in particular would be avoiding Sue Sylvester after singing _that_ on stage. Especially since the fearsome coach hadn't quite done anything to either of them, yet.

Dean tended to somehow avoid things like that anyway and no doubt Sam would've happily gone in the same route with only a bare minimum of exposure due to being in the club. He didn't know how the brothers were doing, or if Dean realised what winning actually meant for New Directions, that this time, the _Nationals_ took place in _New York City_ , a whole _different_ state. How Dean would be able to convince John Winchester to let them go for _that_ was a worry Gabriel didn't have the leisure of entertaining. Dean could handle himself, _had_ been handling himself for years before they'd met, and would carry on handling himself _after_ too. Gabriel had no doubt about that – maybe Dean liked having Gabriel around. After all, he surely liked having Cas as a friend, the two were usually inseparable, but Dean Winchester had grown up with only three other constants. His dad, his annoying little brother, and the car he often called 'Baby'. Anything besides those three Dean could do without if he had too, even pie if push came to shove.

So Gabriel had to think about himself, _his future_ , what he was going to do now. Gabriel had always known right from the start that the first chance he got, he was getting the hell out of America. The envelope in his hands held the key to that freedom, a red logo with the title _Universitetet i Oslo_ emblazoned on it like a siren call. He ripped the envelope apart in his haste to get to the folded up paper within, his heart latched in his throat as trembling fingers unfolded it open and the printed words blurred into focus.

He read the words, reread them, and read them one more time just to make sure. Gabriel shot out of his bedroom and straight to the backyard where Castiel and Balzathar sat, hiding the paper until he was sure none of the other children were around. He skidded to a stop right in front of them, his face breaking out into a huge, ecstaticgrin as he brandished the paper like a weapon, trembling too hard to keep it still so they could _see_ ,before Balzathar finally ripped it out of his hands and smoothed the paper out for him. Castiel leaned in and peered at it.

Only for them both to pour a bucket of ice cold water on him when they immediately frowned. "You're going to leave Dean?"

What kind of a question was that? Gabriel snatched his paper back, the grin slipping off his face like water in the face of their killjoy, and huffed in irritation. "Dean's a _Junior_ , of course I was going to end up leaving him. We're not even in the same _school_ , for Father's sake." Hey, he was named after an archangel, so by all intents and purposes, God was his daddy. "Besides, he always knew I was gonna get out of here as soon as I could." Why was he even explaining himself to them? It wasn't like he was _hitched_ to Dean or anything. That kiss had obviously been a mistake, otherwise Dean would've hunted him down and continued right where he'd left off – neither of them were shy about that sort of thing anyway. Obviously Dean had realised he'd just been riding on the thrill of winning, something that had been completely new for him but Gabriel had been used too, and the adrenaline rush and euphoria had made him do something he would normally never do. Gabriel couldn't see _why_ he felt defensive in the face of Castiel and Balthazar's reaction. It was going to be bad enough trying to explain this to the big three when Gabriel couldn't hold it off anymore.

Because _that_ , Gabriel knew, was going to end _badly_.

* * *

Now _this_ , Dean thought sourly, was going to end _badly_.

His dad had found the papers Mr. Schuester had forced them to take home, the ones asking for permission from the parents to take their Glee Club kids to New York for the Nationals. Something Dean had not _signed up for_ but apparently had to see through because Sam was goddamn freaking excited about it. Sam had always liked big cities, be it New York or San Francisco, but the Winchester's journey rarely ever coincided with any of them, John preferring to take them through small towns like Lima, Ohio. The Regionals had been great, Dean wasn't going to lie, the thrill and excitement of doing something like that? Almost similar to the high Dean got from the 'hunts' John had started taking him regularly on when Dean turned twelve. Sure, Dean knew teaching your thirteen year old son how to recognise patterns of murder and crime the police hadn't even picked up on yet wasn't exactly something normal society smiled upon, but if it meant Dean helped out his old man, then Dean would do it – give his dad some peace of mind so he could focus on finding Mom's killer.

And yeah, OK, so Dean hadn't seen Gabe ever since the Regionals too, but Cas told him the older teen was up to his neck in finals, and Dean had accepted it easily enough. It didn't matter because Dean knew he'd see Gabriel afterwards and even as the other got ready for college, Gabe would make time for him so they could shoot the shit and just hang out or something. Dean would make the best of the last summer he had with him, because he knew for sure that as soon as Gabe went abroad, they wouldn't be seeing each other for a while. Not forever – hell no, Dean was planning on tracking Gabriel down a few years after Sam settled (probably in Stanford or some place equally huge and mind boggling) and his dad had gotten their mom's killer and finally relaxed – but for a while they'd be too far to talk. It was a small price to play.

What wasn't small though was this argument.

"Singing, Dean?!" John shouted, shaking the fist he was holding the paper with. " _That's_ what you're wasting your and your brother's time on? _That's_ what the extracurricular crap was about?"

"Dad," Dean tried again calmly, hoping to god Sam would shut up and not say a word. "It's just for a few days. Everything's sorted and nothing will happen."

John pushed himself off his chair and paced furiously, back and forth, back and forth, _back and forth_ as he balled up the permission paper into a wrinkly ball. "Of course nothing will happen!" He spat out, rounding on Dean and looming with his impressive height. "Because it's _singing_! It's a _show choir_! _Nothing_ happens on these damn things! You're not going. Either of you!"

"Dad-"

"You can't just say _no_." Sam's voice interrupted, loud and defiant as he stood to his full height, still a few inches short of John and one or two of Dean. "These are the _Nationals_ , Dad. We have to go!"

John laughed bitterly, his face screaming his incredulity at the situation, and ignored Sam as he stared Dean down. "I just got a lead on your mother's killer, Dean, and I need you to come with me. Are you going off to _sing_ and dance or are you coming with me to kill the SOB that took your mother away?"

Faltering, Dean's eyes swept to Sam, seeing his brother's face go from righteous indignation to quiet resignation. Dean never said no to a hunt, had done nothing but show enthusiasm for it too. He still remembered their mother, Mary, still remembered her unlike Sam, and he wanted to avenge his mother just as much as the next guy. But this wasn't the first time dad got a lead on a no-named person, this probably wouldn't be the last either, and Dean had yet to see any progress in what his Dad had been doing in the past ten years.

So would he give in, and be the good son, knowing they'd probably be coming back empty? Or the good big brother, and stand up for Sammy and the one thing he wanted since coming to Lima, Ohio? The one thing they probably wouldn't get a chance to do next year because they'd be in a whole different city that didn't have a Glee Club, or one as good as New Direction's?

"We're going to the Nationals, Dad." Dean finally answered, keeping his eyes on Sam and away from John, unable to see the disappointment in his father's eyes. "I-... I'm sorry."

There was no answer. Nothing but silence before John moved away, walked up the stairs to his bedroom, his heavy boots making noise on the living room ceiling as he packed his things. Dean swallowed the thick lump in his throat, wondering for a split moment if he had done the wrong thing until Sam came up close to him and hooked his index finger in Dean's pinky, something he used to do when he was just a baby.

Dean knew he did the right thing.

* * *

Gabriel knew, deep in his heart and everything that made him, that he'd done the right thing.

It didn't matter how much Lucian discouraged and cajoled into making Gabriel doubt and question himself. It didn't matter how many times Michael warned him he'd be kicked out of his inheritance. And really it didn't matter how Raphael cursed having Gabriel for a little brother, calling him worthless and a spineless coward.

Gabriel knew he'd done the right thing because he could _feel_ it was the right thing to do. He had always known his big brothers would be against it.

He didn't know how he was going to afford a place to stay in Oslo, or how he was going to feed himself, or even buy the necessary equipments. He didn't know how he was going to get over the language barrier – despite the fact the university taught in English and that most Scandinavians could speak English perfectly anyway _._ He had no clue how he was going to survive on his own, away from his family, who, despite being downright dicks sometimes, he still loved with every fibre of his being. However, he was still going to do it because he _had_ too. If he stayed here any longer and went to the university Lucian and Michael ordered him to go, went wherever he was herded like some damn cattle, he'd go crazy. And that was no way to live.

"I'm leaving." He said, speaking over the din of his three brothers arguing at once. "And nothing you say or _threaten_ me with, will change my mind."

"You'll regret this, Gabriel." Lucian said sympathetically, always pretending he wasn't a manipulative bitch. "And then you'll just come back here, telling us we were right. Listento us, little brother. We only want what's best for you."

Gabriel shook his head, calm in the face of their anger. "No. I'm leaving. I wish you could just accept this and wish me luck but I have always known that was asking too much. I hope you guys live a good life and take care of each other because you're still my brothers and I still love you, despite you all being colossal dicks." And then, because his heart ached at the notion of leaving Balzathar and little Castiel behind, he decided to imitate his latter brother and tacked on a solemn, "Goodbye." grinning ruefully at the way it made him sound.

Spinning on his feet, he headed out of the green house where he had been called in for an attendance, and walked back into the main foyer of the Novak house, planning on going to his room to pack immediately. He was leaving now, two months ahead of graduation but he already knew he was going to pass and had talked his way into taking the end of year exams early. Before he could leave thought, Michael's voice boomed his name, stopping Gabriel and making him turn around to face his eldest big brother.

"Is there nothing I can do you to change your mind?" Michael asked, voice low and soothing, his clear blue eyes silently asking for a way to fix this, to make things right.

Gabriel figured he knew what Michael was thinking. As the eldest, he was the one in charge of _all_ of them after Mother died and Father went missing with nothing but a goodbye note. He would think this was his fault, and had only argued against the notion so much because he couldn't bear the idea of any of them leaving his safety. Norway was far away, _Europe_ was far away, and the Novak influence didn't extend that far. "Nope." Gabriel smiled, walking back to Michael to clasp him on the shoulder, not sure whether a hug would be welcomed. "But... Take care of the little ones, ok? I've already said bye."

Michael clasped him back on the shoulder, ran a hand through Gabriel's hair like he used too when Gabriel was younger, and nodded once. "Very well, little brother." He murmured, letting go by forcibly taking a step back. "Take care of yourself."

Gabriel nodded, turned around, and walked to his room. He got his things – all already folded and put away – and dragged them back downstairs and out of the house. With a final glance back, a wave and a cheeky grin he didn't feel like giving to the peering faces of Balzathar and Castiel in the top third window, he hailed himself a taxi and demanded to be taken to the airport.

* * *

New York City was huge, noisy, and bright. And Dean hated it.

Granted, he hated a lot of the big cities, had an unexplainable fear of Chicago, an unexplainable deep hatred of Detroit, and something that grabbed his throat and choked him whenever the name Pontiac came about. But he sucked it up, reminding himself this was for Sam and, somewhat, for himself too, that their dad needed to see that sometimes, other things were more important than a lead or two which everyone knew had very little chance of panning out.

The cast of New Directions were besides themselves. Sam was being dragged left, right and centre by Mercedes and Rachel while Dean hung in the back to trade pranks with Puck, along with hushed comparisons of the ladies in Lima ("Mrs. Wilson is a _cougar_ , Winchester. I'm telling you. I can't believe you said no because her husband was at Breadsticks.").

When the day of the competition came, all decked out in all their uniform, all their lines and dance moves memorised (Dean still couldn't believe he was _dancing_ but what the hell, it might help when he needed to jump over a hurdle in a hunt or something), they belted out their original songs and the crowd went wild.

Until Rachel and goddamn-fucking-Finn kissed right as they nailed it.

Then they lost. Didn't even place in the top ten.

As Ms. Pillsbury ushered everybody into the bus, Mr. Schuester walked up towards Dean, sitting besides him on the pavement outside the hotel they'd been staying at. Dean grunted a greeting, too busy with people watching and freaking out over returning back home, and didn't speak up.

"Is... everything alright, Dean?" Mr. Schuester asked carefully, watching the people pass by in colourful clothes besides Dean.

Dean grunted, finding it typical that would be the first question, and only nodded in reply.

"Dean..." Mr. Schuester sighed. "I know we all had huge expectations. We all wanted to win! But... Sometimes, things don't work out that way. We do still have next year, you know."

Unable to hold back the snort that came at that, Dean shook his head. "It's not that." He admitted, even if he was a little ticked off about ending up in _twelve place_ because of two teenagers who couldn't keep it in their pants. At least he'd only kissed Gabriel _after_ they finished and were celebrating. And they really didn't have next year, after this stunt, John was bound to get them out of here and to some other small town, get them away before they could make any more lasting ties. Dean knew how his dad's head worked. "Sam's probably pissed off though." He grumbled, watching the ramp on the bus go up as Artie waited patiently. "You should go talk to him before he becomes a little evil bitch and tries getting revenge on Berry and Hudson."

Mr. Schuester smiled, probably not realising the magnitude of Sam's bitchiness or how dangerous his revenge plots could be, because of course the little bitch had everybody thinking that he was a genuine angel. Berry and Hudson had better watch their backs for the next two months. "You know Dean? I'm actually happy."

Glancing over at the Spanish teacher, Dean cocked an eyebrow.

His smile growing into a grin, Mr. Schuester shrugged self consciously. "It's just. You joined. You started showing life and actually participating. You've made friends with Puck – despite me thinking you and him were going to fight each other on who was more badass or something – and you've done nothing but surprise us all. Except maybe Sam. He's really proud of you, you know."

Snorting again, Dean shook his head. "I'm the big brother. _I_ should be proud of him." And then, realising how wrong that could be taken, he coughed a bit. "Which I am." He muttered, looking away. "Proud of him, that is."

"And I'm proud of you." Mr. Schuester replied without missing a beat, standing up and patting Dean on the back. "As I'm sure your parents are. You're more than just a good kid, Dean. You're a great kid. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."

Looking up at the Spanish teacher, Dean searched for something to reply with, not used to the praise or compliments, and was thankfully saved by the ringing of his phone. Digging into his pockets, he pulled it out – hoping for a second it was Gabriel calling to ask whether they'd won or not – and was surprised to see it was an unknown number. Although a bit wary, Dean decided it could be anybody – probably his dad calling from wherever he'd gone for his lead – pressed the green button and put it to his ear.

"... hospital... was suicide... gun... we lost him..."

He dropped the phone.

* * *

The bus was quiet when they entered the school's grounds. Sam's red splotched face was smashed against his brother's collarbone, the t-shirt wet from Sam's tears. Dean stared out of the window blankly, his mind working despite his shock, letting him think things through without the threat of emotion pulling him under.

How was he going to take care of Sam now? He had maybe a few hundred dollars stashed somewhere and could probably scrounge a few more if he went through John's things. Maybe even a thousand or two if he sold some of John's stuff and hustled with it to triple. What if CPS decided to take Sam away? He might have to call Bobby, or Pastor Jim, and have them come over and pretend to be relatives. But Dean didn't want to bother them too much, not if he could handle this by himself, and maybe he could, if he just stashed Sam in the Impala and drove. Far away, to the other side of the country and lie about his age to make it legal, put Sam in another public school and went to work to pay for everything.

The bus finally came to a stop. Dean turned his head away from the window and frowned a bit as Sam's hair tickled his nose but watched silently as the members of New Direction got out of the bus slowly, quietly, in deference to Sam finally unconscious from crying his heart out onto Dean's own chest. Dean liked to think Sam had poured all his hurt into Dean, from one heart to the other, trusting his big brother to take care of him and make things better. Dean would if he could. He'd do anything in his power to stop this nightmare from being real, to stop Sam from shedding tears, and to stop the wide eyed look of horror and sympathy on the other kids' faces. He was sure he'd heard Tina quietly cry into Mike's chest, which oddly made Dean feel a little better, grounded him a bit harder to Earth, to the reality of life and _their_ life, the Winchester life. Death was something that had loomed not in the horizon but right above their heads all the time, Dean had known this, _did_ know this-

-He'd just never expected it to happen while they'd been _away_. Separated.

"...an? Dean?"

Looking up, Dean swallowed as Mr. Schuester grimaced in what should have been a smile, and realised the bus was empty except for the three of them. He looked down at Sam, at little Sammy, his little brother, sleeping, and decided waking him up wasn't worth it. Carefully, he dislodged himself out of the seat, slipped his arms around his little brother and hefted Sam up onto his back, feeling Sam's head easily fit into the space from his neck to shoulder and followed Mr. Schuester out of the bus.

Castiel was the first person he saw, standing silently besides Balthazar. Besides them was Bobby, gruff and familiar Bobby, just waiting for them to need him so he could help. The lack of Gabriel was like a fist to his solar plexus, stealing the air from him and making it hard to breathe, but Dean consoled himself that something must have happened and he would be here soon, or maybe was getting things ready for them, for their arrival, though where there was eluded him.

Taking a ragged breath deep into his lungs, Dean walked up towards them, knowing and feeling Puck and the other's eyes on him, and stood in front of Castiel, Balthazar and Bobby, Sam on his back, and couldn't bring himself to look them in the eye.

"Dean."

Swallowing thickly, Dean nodded to Castiel, confirming that he'd heard, that he knew his dad was gone, dead, all because Dean had been too selfish to put his father's needs before his own. Suddenly, he needed Gabriel to be there, to be _here_ , with Dean, helping him deal with this the way Gabriel instinctively knew _how to_ , needing him to just _be here_ for Dean and a constant, something Dean hadn't failed. So he looked up and stared into Castiel' terrifying blue eyes. "Where's Gabe...?"

The same blue eyes bored back at him, staring at him without blinking, and for a while Castiel didn't reply. Then, when Dean was dimly entertaining the notion of panicking for real, thinking that maybe John wasn't the only one gone, to have _died_ , Castiel blinked once, slowly, dark eyelashes going down and up again, and Dean knew he wasn't going to like what his best friend said next.

"Gabriel left for Oslo University yesterday, Dean. He's no longer here."

The words swirled around him, drowning him in a deafening roar, and he must have swayed where he stood because next thing he knew Bobby was holding him, his gruff voice a balm on Dean's raging thoughts but too low for the Winchester – the eldest Winchester _alive_ now – to make out. Dean's everything had been ripped out from under his feet a few hours ago, by some woman on the telephone claiming to be a doctor, that his father had died, committed suicide with a gun – a Colt, she'd said, the word unfamiliar on her tongue but like a lightning of recognition to Dean – and told him he was gone, dead, shuffled off this mortal coil, and Gabriel had left too.

Gone. Just gone. Gabriel was _gone_.

And he hadn't even said goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

_Ten years later_

Forty-five minutes ago, Sam had dragged Dean here to this crowded, dark bar with the intent to cheer him up. Three hours ago, Dean had found out his fiancée had eloped with another man, leaving nothing but a piece of paper with _'I'm sorry'_ scrawled in Cassie's loopy handwriting. And Sam's method of cheering someone up were growing increasingly suspicious.

For one, Sam smiled too much. The sort of smile he gave when Dean had told him he was getting married. Nobody should smile that much when their brother got _dumped_ , right? Right. Second, Cas was here. And Balz. And _Puck._ And, well, um, Hummel too. With his boyfriend, the Blaine one. Whatever his name was. Castiel and Balthazar weren't all too uncommon because Castiel was the drinking champion and thus the designated driver (guy _never_ got drunk, for some reason), and Balzathar knew all the places to be for the best drinks and service no matter what time of day it was, so of course he'd be dragged along. That wasn't even where the weirdness stemmed from, it came from the fact that Castiel was quietly pretending nothing was going on while Balzathar smiled a bit too much too, just like Sam, so yeah, Dean was definitely putting another tick in the suspicious box.

Sure, Dean could understand Noah also being here. They had actually become seriously good friends, despite Dean dropping out of McKinley High as soon as he turned eighteen in their senior year. Dean had all but forced Noah to add him in the pool business, which Dean turned into an _actual_ business, and made enough to keep Sam with him _and_ have Bobby as their technical guardian so the Law wouldn't be pissed. But Peacock and his boyfriend? Dean didn't think he'd ever actually spoken to _either_ of them in his life. They were more... Gabriel's friends... than his.

And thirdly, all of them had been plying Dean with drinks after drinks. Not that he refused any of them, he needed to get smashed like _yesterday_ , but normally, Sam and Castiel would have been telling him drowning his sorrows in alcohol wasn't the way to go instead encouraging him. Only Balzathar and Puck really understood the appeal of oblivion alcohol presented – even if the former personally preferred those prissy drinks with the umbrella's and French names, and the latter preferred women to drinks.

So something was going on. They had something planned. And Dean didn't know if he had the energy to worry about it or to just ignore them and order another drink.

Sam lumbered up besides him, all twenty four years of him, taller then a lumberjack and girlier than Barbie, bumping into Dean's shoulder as he slid in to the dark booth where Dean had enclosed himself. A wide grin with dimples was aimed his way – too fake to be genuine – and Sam wrapped a huge arm around him and squeezed a bit too tight. "Hey, Dean!" He yelled, trying to get his voice heard over the noise of the bar. "How you doing?"

Sighing to himself, Dean rubbed at his face and wondered not for the first time why he let them drag him here. He loved his little brother, there was no denying it, and he loved Castiel and Balthazar (yes, Balz too) like they were family, because as far as he was concerned they were. Puck was the best friend he never thought he'd ever have who was _normal_ , by all intents and purposes. But sometimes, a man needed to just go out on his own and drink his way to an early grave. Bobby understood it, Bobby had told him to drive up to South Dakota when he had the chance and he knew he'd get put up with enough work he wouldn't have time to think about any of this. Bobby had promised to keep a bottle of the good stuff for him, ready for any time Dean passed by, and that was the best sort of condolences Dean could wish for. Pastor Jim, on the other hand, had promised to pray for Dean "in this trying time" and, whereas any other time Dean would've scoffed and completely ignored it, this was coming from Pastor Jim and Dean strongly believed that if anybody could get God up there to pay attention for one goddamn second and not screw up someone's life, it would be Pastor Jim. Mr. Schuester had called too, not uncommon since the now History teacher kept a close eye on Dean after John died, and had quickly become one of those people up there with Bobby and Pastor Jim. Yet, Dean still felt uncomfortable with how _positive_ Mr. Schuester was, telling him that everything would be okay, to just hold on, and if Dean needed anything, not to hesitate at all but call him.

Awkward conversations aside, thankfully the news hadn't travelled too far yet – the last thing Dean needed was to get a call from Missouri – but three hours was enough to have him sitting here pondering on the pros and cons of ditching his brother and friends (except maybe Balzathar), and hitching a ride to another bar. One that was significantly more... Well, _less_ then this. He wanted a dirty, smoky, bar filled with big burly men with no sign of women, except those that liked it from what they called 'real men' and bartenders that couldn't give a shit about customer service. He wanted to maybe pick a fight with one of those aforementioned big burly men, have them comment on his 'pretty boy' features, on his cocksucking lips too, if he got lucky, and he wanted to get lost in the heat and passion of a much healthier pastime than drinking. Healthier because at least then Dean wasn't slowly killing his liver nor would he have a killer headache the next day from an equally killer hangover.

No, he'd probably just have a black eye and maybe a busted lip to boot.

Sam suddenly went rigid besides him, eyes flicking to the stage where the lights had dimmed, grabbing everybody's attention, and Dean sighed forlornly into his drink and finished off the last of it, knowing for a fact he was probably _beyond_ drunk. Then the lights came on up on the stage, people started clapping as someone presumably got up on it and got ready to _woo_ people but Dean kept his head down and eyes focused on his empty glass, mourning the lack of alcohol to drink, wishing it to suddenly refill itself by magic. Even if he'd be too suspicious of a magically refilling glass of beer to drink from it. It was the principle that mattered, here.

" _¡Hola, amigos!_ " A cocky voice spoke through a mic, sounding strangely familiar but not enough to warrant Dean's attention. "So I'm your entertainment tonight. Lucky you, eh?" The crowd went wild a bit, some whooping good naturedly at the humour but quickly quietened down. "Alright, alright, settle down people. This isn't the usual fare for this bar, as the regulars 'round here know, but I'm not your usual guy either." Again, laughter and catcalls went out from the crowd and Dean dimly figured whoever was speaking – why was the voice so familiar? – must've winked or something to get across an innuendo. "But more than just entertaining you lovely folks, I'm here to fix a mistake I did a long time ago, one that I can't apologise enough for. So instead, I'm going to sing it, if that's alright with the rest of ya'll."

Dean snorted bitterly into his drink, thinking how much Mr. Schuester would approve of _singing_ your apology to someone rather than just telling them outright. Gabriel liked to do that, he mused drunkenly to himself, rolling the glass between his hands in fascination. He liked to sing out his feelings for the world to know – the more ridiculous, the more he liked it. But maybe he was different now, ten years was a long time for someone to stay the same. Maybe ten years from now another person Dean cared about would leave him, and he'd be drinking beer and thinking about Cassie like he was thinking about Gabriel.

He thought about that as the opening of some song began, but with liquid courage blazing through his veins, he was able to honestly admit to himself he was still hung up more about Gabriel leaving than Cassie. At least with Cassie he had _some_ inkling of why she might have left but Gabriel's had been abrupt. And too brutal to make sense.

The crowd whistled, recognising the song that only sounded dimly familiar to Dean, something that reminded him of days in Lima, Ohio spent hiding behind bleachers pretending not to watch Gabriel dance and twirl to some obnoxious song ( _"Hey there! I like your hair!_ _Who does your hair? I wanna go there! Psh, yah!"_ ). Soon enough, it was time for whoever was at the stage to start singing, his cue was coming up in one, two, and _there_.

_"You think I'm pretty without any make-up on,_   
_You think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wrong._   
_I know you get me, so I let my walls come down, down."_

The glass slipped from his fingers, Sam was suddenly missing. The little bitch probably ran away and Dean realised with a start _this_ was why the fucker (Sam, Puck, Cas, Balz, Peacock and his Boyfriend, choose your pick) had dragged him here. Dread filling his stomach and stealing his breath, Dean glanced up towards the stage, taking a moment for his eyesight to get used to the lighting and not staring at his own table for so long, and groaned to himself when he recognised none other than Gabriel Novak singing a Katy Perry song into the goddamn mic and staring. _Straight_. _At. Dean._

_"Before you met me I was alright,_   
_But things were kinda heavy, you brought me to life,_   
_Now every February, you'll be my Valentine. Valentine."_

Laughter spread across the crowd as Gabriel did a little twirl, never breaking eye contact with Dean, who gaped speechlessly as the still-short male took control of the stage and owned it. He must have blanked out for a while because of his shock, and looking around, saw no sign of the dicks that had dragged him here. By the time he focused back on Gabriel, the elder Novak was well on the chorus, adding every bit of passion and feeling into his words as if he meant every single one of them. Which couldn't be right, because this was a song about some chick wanting to finally let her boyfriend get some, right? Sam always said Dean was bad at understanding the meaning with song lyrics.

_"My heart stops when you look at me._   
_Just one touch, now baby I believe._   
_This is real, so take a chance and-_   
_-Don't ever look back, don't ever look back._   
_I'm-a get your heart racing, in my skin-tight jeans,_   
_be your teenage dream tonight._   
_Let you put your hands on me, in my skin-tight jeans,_   
_be your teenage dream tonight."_

The last word echoed as the song came to a close, the crowd going wild, clapping and whistling in gusto as Gabriel bowed flamboyantly and pushed back his still floppy hair the same way Sam did. Of course he did, because Sam had learnt that really irritating move from Gabriel himself. Dean hunkered in on himself in his booth, wishing like hell the floor would just open up and swallow him, because he did _not_ need this. He'd just been dumped by his girlfriend of three years, _rudely_ dumped, and now his first love was here? Acting the exact same way that Dean had embarrassingly fallen in love with? Jesus, this was the worst day _ever_. Only thing that could top this off was Missouri calling up out of the blue and threaten him with her spoon if he didn't stop moping about right-this-second-young-man-and-get-your-shit-together.

"So, heh," Gabriel's voice spoke up again. "That's probably not what you expected as an _I'm sorry_ song," Dean winced, remembering the letter he'd found tacked on to his apartment door with the same two words. "But considering who I'm singing it for, a big boy of the name Dean who's somewhere in this crowd probably wishing to be dead, it pretty much says everything I needed to say." Gabriel took a deep breath, as if fortifying himself for something, and Dean found himself unwillingly looking up to confirm the movement for himself. Gabriel never needed to prepare himself for something – if you told him to sing a solo right then and there he'd start belching it out with nothing but a grin – but Dean found himself staring as Gabriel smoothed down his shirt, fussed with his hair and looked at anywhere but Dean.

Gabriel was nervous.

"I'm sorry as fuck for leaving you, Dean." Oh God, Dean could _not_ behearing this. "I'm sorry for leaving you at the worst possible time – if I'd known, I would've dropped everything and come as soon as I could've, I swear. And despite what Blaine and my stupid bro's keep yapping on about, I know you can't forgive me. That'd be too damn easy, right? So instead, let me buy you a drink? And get you laid? I know just the right place." The jackass actually winked at Dean and waved a hand down at himself, causing the crowd to teeter hysterically at his innuendo. "I'll even let you make Viking cracks at me all you want. Forever."

Dean glared, seething on the inside as he slammed his glass down on the table and got up, finally done with this. He spotted Sam as soon as his butt was off his seat and glared at his little brother too. Turning around to get out, he slammed straight into Puck and, wobbled backwards before Castiel grabbed his arm to settle him down. Before he could order them to move the hell out of his way, Balzathar slithered up beside them, smile wide and charming, his eyes glinting dangerously as he smoothed down his V-neck shirt. "Oh, Dean." He enthused happily, practically beaming at the elder Winchester. "All the bouncers and staff have been informed not to let your depressive ass out of here until you're drunker than a Sammy dating Ruby-"

"-Hey!-"

"-and barely coherent. Oh, and insanely happy too. Now go speak to Gabriel before he sings another god forsaken song. He promised not to sing that terrible Celine Dion one but you know how Gabriel is with promises."

"Shut up, dude." Puck hissed, elbowing Balzathar in the stomach as Dean's expression went hard – because yeah, yeah he totally knew how Gabriel was with promises, the lying son of a bitch. Gabriel had promised that he would _tell_ him when he got accepted and where he was going (it was always a toss up between Norway, some other European country or Japan), and that they'd hang out and get Gabriel ready for it when the acceptance letter came. But Gabriel had _broken_ that promise and just disappeared.

Gabriel had _broken_ that promise and just _left_.

Ignoring the others, Dean rounded on Castiel and glared at him heatedly, wondering how someone who 'gripped him tight and saved him from depression' ten years ago (or some crap like that) could just throw him to the sharks. "You planned this?" He hissed, waving a hand to encompass the whole bar, Gabriel, _everything_. "How could you?!"

Castiel cocked his head to the side, looking completely unaffected by Dean's accusations, and calmly said, "You miss your best friend."

Dean, beyond drunk by now thanks to the adrenaline helping the beer rushed along through his blood, dropped his head to stare at his shoes and scuffed them against the floor. " _You're_ my best friend."

Castiel inclined his head in calm agreement, as businesslike as he'd always been while Balz and Sammy went gooey eyed somewhere behind them and Puck snorted and burst out laughing, unable to hold his amusement back. Dean didn't know where Hummel and his Boyfriend were but maybe they were consulting with the Devil, aka Gabriel, because hell if he knew who even invited them. "You and I do share a profound bond," Castiel said agreeably, patting Dean on the shoulder in the universal sign of 'hang in there, soldier'. "But you and Gabriel have a unique relationship. Go to him and resolve your issues."

Refusing to move and do anything of the sort ( _he_ left, _Gabriel_ left, not Dean), Dean crossed his arms across his chest defensively and held his spot until the sasquatch standing beside him rolled his eyes heavenwards and simply grabbed him by the arm, hauling him forcibly to some random direction. Dean struggled to get out of the giant's hold, willing to even slip out of his leather jacket just to break free but Puck clicked his tongue ("Oh my _God!"_ , Dean thought wildly, "Puck was Missouri in _disguise_!") and helped Sam drag Dean off to who knew where.

Except when Dean craned his neck and searched the area he was being dragged too, he saw Gabriel sitting at an empty booth just watching them with guarded eyes.

"See?" Dean was quick to blurt out. "He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want this too. You guys forced him here, right? Just let me go and we'll never have to speak about this!"

The two giants (who knew Puck would _get_ so tall, dammit), dropped him in beside Gabriel, ignoring him completely, and Sam huffed girlishly and slapped his hands together. "Right you two, hurry up, kiss and make up so we can leave."

Puck added on a derisive, "Try not to kill each other." But ultimately, the two left, leaving Dean alone with Gabriel, who fiddled awkwardly with his drink.

"So..." Yep, that sounded definitely awkward. Dean stared at Gabriel, deploying one of Cas' freaky un-blinking stares he himself had gotten good over the years imitating (always made him win in eye-staring contests), and kept quiet. "You look good?"

And because Dean was not Castiel, and could never attribute the amount of stony patience Castiel had, Dean threw his arms in the air incredulously. "Don't act friendly with me!" He burst out, pointing a finger at Gabriel, jabbing it forcefully. "Not after ten fucking years, Gabriel!"

Gabriel winced, physically recoiling from Dean at hearing his full first name. Dean only ever called him _Gabriel_ rather than _Gabe_ when he was seriously pissed off or angry. "I'm sorry, Dean. I really fucking am, and I don't know how to make things better."

"You can't." Dean supplied quickly. "You lost that goddamn chance a whole _year_ after disappearing. Not even one word, Gabriel. Not one. Do you know what sort of shit I went through?"

Shaking his head, Gabriel stared down into his drink before answering. "Cas and Balz refused to tell me the details. They wanted me to call you up and find out for myself." Then he paused, swallowing thickly, and Dean watched as Gabriel's fingers tightened around his drink reflexively. "Dean... I... I knew about your Dad." Dean flinched, bodily startling backwards, and Gabriel looked up from his drink with guilty wide eyes as he rambled on. "God, I'm so sorry, Dean. I'm just so sorry."

"Then why didn't you call?" Dean mumbled, forcing himself to relax, hunching in on himself in his seat. His mouth was dry, his throat parched and all he wanted was a couple more shots thrown his way to drown his sorrows and just _forget_ about all of this, about his whole goddamn life.

But Gabriel got his attention by slamming his hands on their table. "Because I was afraid, dammit!" He burst out, the words seemingly escaping from him and refusing to be held back. "I thought you wouldn't _want_ to hear from me. I was a whole week late in finding out about _that_ , and I just figured I'd already lost my chance! And then time just kept going on further and further and further and before I know it it's been _four years_ and I just... gave up. How the hell was I supposed to call you after four years?"

Dean mumbled, "You could have. You should have. You suck."

And Gabriel grinned self-deprecatingly, mumbling back a, "Yeah, I do."

The conversation lulled into a silence, Gabriel with his drink and Dean with nothing but the table top to stare at as they mulled over their thoughts. Dean was still thirsty for a drink – alcohol was a thirst the only cure for was passing out – and was just aching for when the conversation would _finish_ and he could _go_. A warm body scooted up beside him, Gabriel moving in closer, right up next to Dean, and turned in his seat to face him. Alerted by the movement, Dean tried moving back – the dig about personal space he used to throw at Castiel, sitting on his tongue – but kept his mouth closed when he saw Gabriel looking _nervous_. If that wasn't a neon sign to get instantly alerted somebody and snapping them from their drunken haze, Dean didn't know what was.

"Just..." Gabriel started, eyes glancing anywhere but at Dean, still scooting in closer until they were pressed up from thigh to shoulder, one long line of warmth. "Punch me or something if you don't want to, okay?"

And then, before Dean could demand what the hell Gabriel was talking about, the older Novak gentle gripped Dean by the chin, turning him until the two of them were facing each other perfectly, and, leaning in close, _kissed_ him.

Immediately, catcalls burst out all around them, a noisy testament to just how nosy people are by nature. Dean could dimly hear Sam's horrified, "I didn't mean it literally!" and Balz yelling, "You owe me a tenner, Cas!" all gleeful, and Dean thought, _'Gabe can really kiss'_.

The warm lips detached from his own, Gabriel pulling back from the far too chaste kiss, his golden eyes studied him, taking in Dean's reaction. "... Was that... okay?"

Just that. Nothing else. Just a quiet question to whether or not he was okay with this or not.

Dean had just been cheated upon by his fiancée of three years, he had nothing but bad luck for the past _ten_ years (with money issues, grief, and the bastard that killed his parents being a main point) and Gabriel had been one of the most pinnacle points of his life, the first best friend he ever had during all those travels John used to take them on as soon as their mom died. His first honest to God, most genuine, crush that had ended up with Dean falling head over heels for a _guy_. But Gabriel left him – Gabriel sucked – but he was also awesome, liked to sing really gay songs, and could kiss better than anybody Dean's ever kissed, and he's kissed a lot of people.

So why the hell not?

"Okay." Dean confirmed, nodding once. He just wanted to get back to the really nice kissing but immediately found Gabriel's blinding grin as a reply really freaking nice too.

* * *

It felt like hours later that Dean struggled to open his eyes, waking up to his mouth tasting like ass and his head pounding to the rhythm of the craziest techno music ever produced. He groaned, wishing he'd never woken up, and sighed in relief when the feeling of the bed beneath him finally registered. And Jesus was the bed incredible. It felt simply _divine_ , and comfortable, and Dean could genuinely sleep on this mattress, under the blankets, for what felt like the rest of his entire life – and not even complain.

Cracking his eyes open further as he snuggled down into the sheets, Dean peered around the room and saw that it was still dark. The cabinet beside him had a digital clock sitting up top, green neon numbers brightly proclaiming it '03:45', which sucked ass too and Dean's head hurt way too much for this, so he should really just go back to sleep. Approving of this course of action, Dean rolled over and groaned again, this time pitifully as his head spiked painfully at the movement, and smacked right into another body.

Another _male_ body.

A short, compact, _male_ body belonging to a golden eyed Gabriel peering at him blearily in amusement.

"Hangover?" Gabriel whispered quietly, handing him a small cup of water. Dean anchored himself up, nodded his head once for lack of anything to say, and swallowed the water down in quick gulps before dropping back onto the sheets.

Watching him with a warm look, Gabriel grinned and cocked an eyebrow. "You passed out in the taxi." He informed Dean. "The moose warned me you'd probably do that."

"Sammy?" Dean slurred, his face still smushed into the absolutely sinful pillow his head was resting on.

Gabriel's expression became fond, and talented fingers started curling into Dean's hair. "Got home safely." He answered Dean's question. "Don't worry, I made sure of it. Didn't know the brat has a cute girlfriend, though. She's _way_ above his paygrade."

Dean's response was to stuff his face deeper in his pillow and groan pitifully once more.

The weight of a warm hand dropped in between his shoulder blades, Dean suddenly realising he was pretty much naked except for his boxers, and the hand started kneading the muscles there. The pressure wrenched a hearted moan from him that wasn't at all pitiful and Dean could hear Gabriel chuckling above him in amusement.

"Now, I distinctly remember offering to get you laid tonight." Gabriel's voice swept over Dean, low and husky. "Or last night, whatever. I hear sex is good for the soul – and hangovers."

Dean thought about it; he wasn't that easy (actually, yeah, he was), and Gabriel had freakin' abandoned him just like everybody else (he still didn't like to think of the dark years where Sam had run off to Stanford and left Dean thinking he was dead, killed by the people that had killed their parents). Gabe should have known better then that!

But he was here now, he'd apologised and Dean had a freaking hangover and could really use some rebound sex thanks to goddamn Cassie. But he didn't want to just have sex with Gabe and see him gone the next day, he didn't want that, had never wanted it, and because of it, Dean found himself about to completely call it off when Gabe started speaking;

"You know what I did in Norway?"

Fingers pressed down into a particularly knot in between the Winchester's shoulder blades as the older man spoke and Dean groaned out his, "No."

"Mythology and Lore," answered Gabriel, voice still now but now tinged with thoughtfulness. "I learned about the Greek Gods and Norse Pagan, about the people that worshipped them, and about religion and lore. But outside of that, I also taught myself about a few useful skills that would help my... certain field."

Gabriel's hands moved downwards, gliding across Dean's back, and the movement left goosebumps in their wake. "I learned how to pick pockets, how to pick locks, how to see a fake ID from a real one, and the observation of art." Those deft hands poked and prodded at the muscles on the small of his back as Gabriel continued, voice a low rumble that made Dean shudder in his place. "I learned how to forge a Picasso, a Van Gogh, bonds and dollar notes. I learned how to con, smooth talk my way past security, smooth talk my way _into_ security, how to play a whole company out of their whole finance."

Dean muffled an embarrassed moan that escaped him with the pillow, suddenly being reminded that it wasn't his, which meant wherever they were must have been Gabriel's place. He refused to acknowledge the growing stir in his stomach, because there was no way in Hell he was getting aroused by the most bizarre dirty talk he'd ever heard. Gabriel chuckled as if he knew what he was doing anyway, and continued kneading, moving back up the expanse of flesh and to Dean's arms, pressing into the biceps rhythmically, soothingly.

"I went by the name Loki, made friends with others, had a destructive fling with a psycho chick called Kali, and accumulated more money then the Novak family, enough to have me listed as one of the top hundred riches men - if any of my financial gains had been legal, anyway."

Finally, Dean found himself able to scrounge up the necessary amount of energy required to murmur his impromptu masseuse's name. "Gabriel?" Despite himself, he was starting to feel damn curious as to why Gabriel was telling him all this.

Sighing above him, behind him, Gabriel blew out the air from his lungs with something approaching sadness. "I'm gonna get you to call me Gabe again, I swear." he promised. "And I have a job lined up here. Ever heard of Sandover Inc?"

Dean tensed, the ugly thought of ' _so that's why he's here, bet he's gonna leave afterwards'_ gripping him and paralysing his thoughts. Gabriel didn't seem to notice, continuing to knead and press in all the right places until Dean was putty in his hands all over again, despite the growing dread replacing his lust.

"Remember Zachariah?" Gabriel asked, continuing to speak as his fingers drifted to the small of Dean's back. "My cousin with the smarmy, smug face? Can't believe that dick shares the same surname as me. Anyway, he's the acting CEO or something. And I really wanna screw him over. Right now he's off in Japan trying to open a new branch. It'll take him _months_ before he even makes progress, so while he's gone, I want to slip the rug right out of his dumb feet and steal his company from him. Then use the money to parade around the world and maybe go to the Bahamas. You ever been to the Bahamas, Dean? It's beautiful, I hear. Thought maybe I should take you to Norway before there, show you the sights."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean finally sighed, a midge calmer than he normally would have had he not been getting the best massage of his life. "Just get to the point already. If you want a one night stand then freaking say so-"

"-I need a partner though; for the job. Someone I can trust." Gabriel interrupted him, digging into Dean's tail bone with his fingers. "And not just for this but for everything. There aren't many cons out there that are one-man capable and frankly, I know you know all a conman's tricks – hell, you even offered to teach me half the stuff back when we were in school. So how 'bout it, Dean-o? Wanna join me in my illegal but fun life?"

Dean stopped breathing, and wondered to himself if perhaps his hearing was playing tricks on him. "W-what?"

Gabriel, the bastard, snickered above him and brushed at the soft hair on Dean's nape. "No one night stand, bucko. It took me ten years but I always wanted you for longer and this time, I'm not letting you go - at all. So join me in a life of decadence? We can flaunt our criminal ways at your giant of a lawyer brother too. Oh and get Balzathar in on some of the more Ritz cons with his posh accent. Maybe Cas for when we need a cop. He'd be a good cop, all stony face and alien vibes, or maybe a bad one because of it." Gabriel rambled, something he only did when he was nervous, a surprising trait that seemed to have stayed the same despite the number of years.

The knowledge calmed Dean, reminded him that the man still pressed up against his back with his hands still as he nervously babbled was still the friend he remembered him to be. More than that, the knowledge had his heart beating double time to know his friend was still the same person he had a crush on - a crush that apparently grew stronger over the last ten years and hadn't dimmed a single bit.

"Gabriel." Dean interrupted, forcibly turning around and feeling very pleased with himself at the sight of Gabriel straddling his lap. "Where do I sign up?"

Gabriel made an adorable, "Huh?" noise, staring down at Dean with hazel-gold eyes and raised eyebrows. Dean just grinned at the reaction.

"The job." He clarified. "Sandover. Screwing that bastard Zachariah over. What would be my role?"

And Gabriel's face split into a grin. A wide, wide grin, just like the one last night after the kiss, except neither of them were drunk here (technically) and because they both knew Dean was agreeing for far more than just a con at a company. He was agreeing to everything Gabriel couldn't directly say, to everything they had to abandon for whatever reason, to something potentially real, something potentially incredible. The heady feeling that suddenly spread its root in Dean's chest had him grinning even wider, until Gabriel's features suddenly went wicked, and then the grin slipped right off Dean's face like water as Gabriel leaned down until the two of them were almost chest to chest, the older man's face face just inches from Dean's own.

"Your role, Dean-o," Gabriel breathed. "is gonna be Dean Smith, Director of Sales and Marketing, our insider."

Dean barely had enough brain cells still working despite the close contact to cock an eyebrow. "Smith? Generic and bland. Makes sense." He conceded thoughtfully. "And Director huh? Do I get my own swanky office?"

Gabriel's grin was lascivious and pure evil. "Mmhmm," he hummed, their faces so close that Dean could swear he could feel the vibrations from the simple noise travelling to his own lips and making him hunger for more. "I remember how good you were with numbers."

"And you?" Dean found himself asking, voice unconsciously imitating Gabriel's as they came out low and breathy, the darkness and shared quarters of the moment demanding intimacy.

"I'm going to be your scandal. Think you can handle me? Oh and, a few dozen paparazzi?"

Dean chuckled as realisation suddenly hit him. He knew exactly which con Gabriel was planning to pull off. He grinned, approving the idea, and even opened his mouth to say so when Gabriel's eyes suddenly flashed golden. Lips were on him before Dean could string two and two together, and Gabriel's fingers trailed a hot path up Dean's sides, making him gasp in surprise at the sensation. Gabriel didn't waste time as he took the opportunity and plunged right into the moist cavern, delving deeper and meshing their lips together like a dying man's last chance for air, drinking in the noise of surprise Dean let loose.

Dean's hands flew up to Gabriel's hip, clutching tightly on the warm skin there as the Novak's tongue reduced his brain to nothing but primal urges. The kiss was dirty, filthy in the way their tongues slid together, messy in how they barely let up to breathe before diving in for more. Gabriel's hands were all over him, massaging and stroking, thumbs sneakily moulding over the peaks of his nipple before catching them with index fingers and _pinching_. Retaliation was in order, so Dean let his hands move from the anchor that was Gabriel's hip and make a beeline for the older man's ass, digging his fingers into the flesh and yanking it down closer towards his own as he jerked upwards.

The move startled Gabriel into breaking off, lips bruised and swollen, glistening with saliva as Dean rutted up again, grinning smugly as Gabriel groaned in delight. The next was stronger, more purposeful as both participants pushed into it, thrusting together, boxers the only barrier between them. Dean was quickly hardening. He could feel Gabriel long and thick above him, pleasure growing with the second as ten years worth of sexual frustration exploded between them and turned into _apprehension_. God, he could remember the first time he'd masturbated to the thought of Gabriel, those lips and that tongue wrapping on his dick rather than whatever lollipop the frustrating teen had been eating.

Gabriel chuckled breathlessly above him, hands moving away from Dean's pectorals to his hips, stilling him with a strength belying his small frame. Dean felt himself responding immediately, opening his mouth to argue at the fact that they'd stopped but the glint in Gabriel's eyes had him realising something.

He'd spoken out loud.

And Gabriel looked _victorious_.

A kiss landed on his chest, a tongue flicked out over a nipple, making Dean's breath hitch and boxer briefs grow painfully tight. Gabriel just moved lower, vaguely sauntering down his chest, peppering bites and kisses, little nips on special places like the jut of Dean's hipbone, until his hot breath was fanning over the elastic of Dean's boxers. Dean knew his face was burning bright red, embarrassment at losing his brain to mouth filter warring with everything that was happening in his chest from the look on Gabriel's face; the wickedly pleased quirk to his lips, the dangerous glint to his eyes, the possessive but gentle hands gripping the elastic band and slowly dragging it down Dean's hip to expose his arousal.

Hot air blew over his cock, alighting the nerves there and forcing Dean to keep his eyes open. Gabriel glanced at him, grinned cockily, then licked his lips slow and wet before letting them rest on the tip. Two warm hands palmed his inner thighs, spreading them further apart so Gabriel could comfortably slot himself between them, making a home for himself there, but not once did he let up on the pressure of his lips right _there_ , taunting, teasing, _daring_.

Dean let the seconds tick by, one, two, three, then gave a very tentative thrust of his hip.

Gabriel's lips moved further up, covering the drop of precome just barely beading up, but made no further move.

Confused but starting to maybe get a hint, Dean struggled with himself for a second before deciding to follow through, and rocked his hips again, careful not to push Gabriel off him. He chocked on air when his cock surprisingly pushed through Gabriel's suddenly slack lips, the head of his dick disappearing into a moist heat before resurfacing back again as Dean settled back, and suddenly he knew what Gabriel wanted. Surprise exchanging for a low simmering heat, Dean pushed up again, more power in his hips, and swallowed thickly as his dick went further into Gabriel's mouth, the sensation of a tongue licking over him punching a gasp out of him. Somehow, his fingers locked into the lush brown hair, weaving into it to hold on as Dean let himself enjoy Gabriel's mouth, full out moaning when Gabriel's pleased hum vibrated along his manhood.

The moist heat had him distracted enough to not hear the sound of something popping open but it couldn't distract him from feeling the finger covered in cold liquid suddenly at his entrance. Flinching at the cold, Dean cursed, quieting down as Gabriel used his free hand to rub soothingly at his hip in apology, and fully relaxed fully Gabriel finally moved his hand and dropped down onto his cock, deep throating him as a lubed finger nudged in and entered him.

Gabriel kept at it, humming at random moments as his finger curled inside Dean, then eased it out only to replace it with two. The ache barely registered to Dean, too busy panting as Gabriel found his prostrate and rubbed against it while vibrating around his cock. Before Dean knew it, three fingers were in him and stretching him apart. His thighs were pushed further apart, knees bent so his feet planted firmly on the sheets. Gabriel continued fingering him, making sure he was loose and ready, continually assaulting Dean's prostrate until he finally dragged them out, rising off Dean's dick with a dirty pop.

"Okay?"

Stretching himself out on the bed, Dean nodded down once at Gabriel, and purred when the smaller man slithered up his body and deftly licked into his mouth. The warm body blanketing his own felt amazing, so amazing in fact he made a sound of protest when Gabriel climbed off him and stretched to dig around in his jeans. It became obvious what he was searching for when Gabriel cheered and held up a condom, fitting himself against Dean's back again with an odd chuckle at Dean's frustrated huff. Gabriel lined himself up and nudged in, kept kissing him through it, letting himself in inch by inch until he bottomed, hip pressing up snugly against Dean's ass. Cursing, Dean let his head drop back down onto the pillow, letting himself adjust to the intrusion as he stared up at the ceiling. Gabriel let him have a few moments, carefully working a hickey on Dean's neck until Dean rolled his hips and let loose an explosive, "Move."

Despite his personality, Gabriel moved slowly, drawing out then pushing in, repeating the movements carefully and precisely. He didn't speed up an inch, changing the angle with each thrust until Dean seized up and moaned, keeping at it until Dean was nothing but a writhing mess beneath him.

"I hated my life," Gabriel groaned, dropping his head to rest on Dean's shoulder, whispering into his ear, "and I hated that school."

Dean responded with a frank, "Fuck you," sinking his teeth into the expanse of shoulder in front of him, worrying the skin as Gabriel jolted and thrusted hard into him. "You weren't the only one with a- _fuck_ \- a- a shitty life."

One of them moaned but Gabriel couldn't tell as he dropped a hand between them to grip Dean's erection, stroking in time with his thrusts. "No," he breathed, rising up to look down at the image Dean made, spread out on his bed as he was. "I wasn't. But I hated everything, everything except you. And I was so sure I couldn't have you."

" _I kissed you_ ," Dean whined, head thrown back at a particularly brutal thrust. "I kissed you and you- you _left_."

Gabriel felt himself at the edge, teetering so close to danger, and quickened his stroking. "I thought it was a mistake. I thought you were _straight_."

Dean laughed breathlessly, urging Gabriel on as he felt himself about to come. Gabriel leaned down, tightening his hand around him, and _groaned_ his name. Dean felt himself tightening up, muscles straining as he arched off the bed as he came, and somewhere in the haze of his orgasm he could hear Gabriel moaning above him. The rush of pleasure crested and fell, letting Dean drop back down onto the bed and catch his breath. Gabriel rolled off him to the side, snuggling in almost immediately and curling around Dean's spent body.

"How was I supposed to know you had the hots for me?" Gabriel whined, planting his face in the crook between Dean's neck and shoulder. "Not fair."

Breathing in deep and letting it out on an exhale, Dean stared up at the ceiling and asked the one question that had been bugging him. "Why today? Why come today, of all days? Because of Cassie?"

A hum answered him, hot breath fanning onto his already heated skin. "Nope. Didn't know 'bout her until I'd arrived. I just... heard that song you sang at McKingley High's Glee Club, and... it reminded me of you. I never stopped..." he trailed off, a hot palm sliding over Dean's chest to rest on his heart, and Dean sighed, relaxing fully into the bed and Gabriel.

"Yeah," he heard himself say anyway, deciding a few more hours of sleep were in order. "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Now I can cross off debriel from my lists of things to do. 8D

**Author's Note:**

> You have the right to remain silent and roll on over to my tumblr, [sheriffbadass](http://sheriffbadass.tumblr.com). You have the right to send asks, and if you're too shy for it, then you shall be appointed the veil of anon to allow you to do so.


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